


despondency

by starrylitme



Series: Cling in Despair [1]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Blood and Violence, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Despair, Dubious Ethics, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:56:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4192893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's gotten to be so boring it doesn't affect him anymore. That's lucky, isn't it?</p>
<p>(Kamukura finds it sickening.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	despondency

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick request on tumblr for Kamukoma with the word "desensitize" but I'm somehow fond of it even though it's a couple of weeks old.
> 
> I have a lot of awful headcanons involving Despair!KamuKoma and I just want to write them. For now, have something short and (bitter)sweet.

His breathing used to be so heavy after he pulled the trigger. His fingers used to shake around the handle. Komaeda used to look at him with those wide, perturbed eyes with blood streaking his face that was not his. Kamukura always had to take the gun from him. At one point, Komaeda nearly shot him too when Kamukura was walking towards him, but fortunately—unfortunately—the gun hadn’t gone off.

This time, Komaeda just has this empty, unaffected glaze to his eyes, and he doesn’t move even as the person before him squirms and gurgles, hands pressed futilely to their neck to stop the bleeding. Komaeda doesn’t even budge as they stop thrashing, twitching before finally going still, the blood seeping into a puddle beneath them.

Kamukura snatches the gun from him and leads him away with a hand on the back of his cold nape. Komaeda lets him, walking with him and not even stumbling like he used to. Kamukura smashes the gun against one of the walls, letting it clatter in pieces but not taking his hand off Komaeda, and still, the other doesn’t flinch.

But he does speak.

“There wasn’t...a reason for that.” His tone was as steady as it was lifeless. “I had no reason to kill that person—it wouldn’t have contributed to anything. Certainly...certainly not for hope... But!!”

A smile sprung across this face, the gray and green of his eyes swirling into a blur of darkness and light, his shoulders beginning to shake with each soft giggle. “I-I just! I saw them, scrambling to get away from me, and I thought that’s so—that’s so  _boring_! It’s boring! It’s not hope, it’s just desperation! It’s despair! And if that’s all you’ll give me then why not just...pull the trigger and watch you  _die_  rather than struggle to survive...”

His laughter grew in loudness in fervor, feet stopping at the same time that Kamukura paused before taking another step. His shaking grew all the more manic, practically vibrating under his fingertips, and Komaeda’s hands dragged themselves down his face, smearing the filth and blood and digging into the skin as though with the intent of tearing it off.

“I...” he gasped. “I didn’t even feel anything when I did that... I was just so,  _so_  bored... Yet I could see that wretched girl laughing, having the time of her life—all  _at me_  when it was just...”

His knees were shaking, he was curling in on himself. If not for Kamukura gripping his hood so tightly, he would have collapsed. Even when his legs did give out, Kamukura lifted him so easily by that bunched up fabric.

“Ka...Kamukura-kun...” Komaeda wheezes, though it might not have been entirely due to the way he was being held. “Kamukura-kun, you think so too, right? It’s  _boring_?”

“I find you more pathetic than boring.” He answers coldly, narrowing his crimson gaze into a glare. Weakly, Komaeda giggled at that.

“I-I am... I’m completely worthless... I can’t even fall into despair correctly... I can’t do  _anything_...” His breath hitches. “I don’t deserve to live for as long as I have—I’m just wasting space, so much  _space_... But I can’t just die...not like this... Not when that ultimate hope has yet to break through this world of despair—I can’t just be out of the loop for that...”

“You’re a despicable, disgusting creature, Komaeda Nagito.” Komaeda nods, meeting his gaze desperately, mouth parted and wheezing. Kamukura tugs him into a hard kiss. It’s near bruising and yet Komaeda doesn’t even make a sound. He hardly even breathes as his mouth is manipulated open, as Kamukura thoroughly tastes copper, salt, and every crevice.  Komaeda didn’t even throw his arms around his neck like he used to.

Komaeda seemed to have fallen right back into that impassive, indifferent state. Kamukura huffed hotly against his lips as he pulled back, and knew the emotion flaring in the back of his mind couldn’t have been anything other than anger. It’s expectable—there was always that part of him that responded so poorly in such situations regardless of how often he repressed it. It made this situation all the more irritating.

He’d crumble so much easier than the gun against the wall, but Komaeda is pinned to it in relatively one piece regardless of the bruises or broken inner workings. His eyelashes flutter as Kamukura starts nipping down his neck, hand pressing up inside the thin, blood-stained white shirt against a reedy stomach and over the defined bumps of each rib. So gaunt—it’s a wonder anyone could fear such a scrawny thing.

Yet there’s so little if anything that can make this emancipated heap of a human being fear—or feel, it seems. Even with his fingers pinching a soft, easily hardening nipple, Komaeda barely blinks differently. His body still responds, heart beating a bit quicker under his hand, the flesh warming against his touch, but when it comes to Komaeda’s expressions, it’s as though there’s a disconnect.

“You can’t feel any of this, can you?” he asks lowly, crimson gaze narrowing.

Komaeda blinks up at him, murmuring a soft, barely audible ‘no’.

“Hm.” Kamukura twirled a lock of white around his hair and pulled, remembering how he used to flinch. How she would laugh when he did. Komaeda just looks down, slowly, and then his lips twist into an upwards quirk that was too warped to be called a smile.

“It’s  _lucky_ , isn’t it?” He asks with a cock of his head. Kamukura doesn’t reply immediately and he cheerily goes on, “I won’t have to worry about being tortured anymore—or even really hurt at  _all_ —and won’t that just drive her  _insane_?”

His nails dug in that pale skin, fingers splaying across the other’s chest, and Komaeda’s shoulders shook a bit with his giggles. He was still tittering as Kamukura pressed their mouths together, and there were sounds this time, but only because he was trying to keep laughing even through each vehement kiss.

“Kamukura-kun,” he sighs saccharinely. “I can’t feel anything. It’s so  _boring_ , isn’t it?”

Kamukura pulled back, staring at the other intently, at that empty smile with emptier eyes, and a completely lack of response even as hands ran down those frail sides and hooked into the waistband of his jeans. It’s boring. Boring to the point it’s sickening.

Komaeda’s legs have always been so pale, but also so soft to the touch. They used to be so  _sensitive_ —just the mildest nibble could get the other to squirm. Komaeda just keeps smiling blankly as he traces each scar along his thighs.

“Kamukura-kun,” he says, lightly in a tone more situated for a coo, “I’m glad, at least, that you still want something so broken.”

Kamukura bites his knee, staring dully up at him. With a tug of the his wrist in an implicit demand, Komaeda slid down to the floor all while maintaining that serene expression. Kamukura was already settling between his legs, hands tight on bony hips.

There was still copper in his taste, the air was stale, and yet Kamukura wasn’t disgusted enough to stop. There was still something keeping him there. Komaeda’s eyes were glassy, his reflection on their surface a bit blurred, even as Komaeda’s lips remained in an upwards serene quirk. Still so blank.

“You won’t even scream, will you?”

He shakes his head simply. And Kamukura sighs as he hitches those legs over his hips, pulling them up and watching as Komaeda does swallow.

_So you haven’t been completely broken just yet_. He presses a softer kiss to the other’s mouth. “How does that feel?”

“I don’t...” Komaeda hesitates. “Ah, Kamukura-kun, is this a trick question? I already told you I don’t feel—”

“Are you bored by this then?” he asks, and Komaeda quiets immediately. Eyes wide considerably, and just as Kamukura starts pulling away, weak hands grasp onto his sleeve and he shakes his head furiously.

“Please...” Komaeda forces a smile, and this time it’s desperate.  _Despairing_. “Kamukura-kun, you never bore me. B-But if I bore you, then that makes sense... Still, don’t be so  _cruel_...”

Kamukura does let himself be tugged back into Komaeda’s embrace. But as Komaeda’s eyes fall shut as he pecks the other’s lips once, twice, before falling into a string of kisses, red eyes narrow before shutting on their own.

“Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda says, and then pleads. “ _Kamukura-kun_.”

Kamukura doesn’t say a word in response, threading his fingers through those tresses before settling on the nape of his neck. Glaring at the wall as Komaeda clings to him, fingers digging in his suit and face buried in his shoulder.

“Kamukura-kun.” A whisper. Soft against his shoulder. “Please.”

Kamukura nips at his ear, and Komaeda remains still. His breathing is steady even as his hands move lower.

“Please.” Komaeda says again. “Kamukura-kun.”

“You still don’t feel any of this, do you?” Kamukura asks, breath puffing against the shell of his ear. “And yet.”

“ ** _Please_**.” And Komaeda pulls back to kiss him hard.


End file.
